


Hawk

by sara_merry99



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_merry99/pseuds/sara_merry99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris found himself wondering if tame hawks ever did turn on their masters, rending and clawing the hand that they'd once perched on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawk

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: There is some dubious consent/non-con in the backstory of one of the characters, but it is not described in detail. 
> 
> Author's Notes: Thanks to Sassyinkpen and Farad for the betas and for getting me past my neurotic break. Y'all are both *stars* and without the story would never have made it off my hard drive.

# Hawk

Chris stood with his back to the bar, looking over the saloon. He'd come in for whiskey, maybe some companionship, but Vin was playing poker with JD and Ezra and Josiah. Buck left about as soon as he came in, escorting a plump blonde with apple cheeks and a sweet smile. Nathan was in his clinic with a sick child and wouldn't be anywhere else until the girl was better.

He thought about finding a seat in the corner and reading, preferring the distraction and noise of the saloon to the quiet melancholy of his room, but the book he had with him, a history of the French and Indian War, didn't suit his mood. Neither did playing poker with the boys. JD was laughing hard at one of his own jokes, with Vin, Ezra and Josiah looking on with different degrees of bemused tolerance.

Vin caught his eye and with a tilt of his head offered to leave the game and join Chris. Chris, though he felt a lightness in his chest at the offer, shook his head no. What was between him and Vin was precious and new and he wanted nothing more than to sit with him, breathe him in even if he couldn't touch. But they had to maintain appearances, keep folks from guessing there was more than friendship between them. Vin nodded and smiled and turned his attention back to the cards in his hand.

Chris downed his shot and turned back to the bartender to order a second. In the mirror over the bar he saw a large man step through the doors. The stranger paused just inside and Chris turned around to get a better look.

The first thing Chris noticed about him was his guns. The stranger had a rifle strapped across his back and a pistol low on each hip. Chris sized him up. He was thickly muscled through his chest and arms; probably not too fast on the draw, though Chris wasn't inclined to test that without good reason. His shoulders were broad, broader than Josiah's by a good few inches, though he was no taller than Chris.

The stranger's look around the room ended on the table where Vin and the others were playing poker. Ezra and Josiah were staring at the man, most everyone in the bar was, but Vin was frozen still, staring at his cards.

Not like him to miss something important going on.

"Vin Tanner," the stranger shouted, his voice booming across the hush his entrance had caused. "Good goddamn! How the hell're you doing, Hawk?"

Vin rose to his feet, slowly and with none of his usual grace. Chris could see tension in his shoulders and the unaccustomed straightness of his spine. Vin nodded a greeting, and said, "Tom Brush. You're about the last man I expected to see come through those doors. I thought you were up Colorado way." The man walked toward the table, and Vin waited for him like he was waiting for a battle, wary and tense.

Chris found himself moving in that direction, without really thinking about it. Something about this big man had Vin on edge, and Chris found that he was curious. And concerned. At best, this might be a chance to learn a bit more about Vin. At worst, Vin could use another friend around if things got ugly.

He got to the table in time to hear Vin saying, "Tom and I were partners for a year or so. Buffalo hunting for the army."

"Best partner I ever had," Tom said, jovially. Ezra and Josiah scooted around to make room for Tom and he pulled up a chair. Chris slipped in between Vin and JD.

Vin offered his hand to Tom and as they shook Chris could see that their knuckles were white as they gripped. Some sort of contest there, and Vin wasn't backing down despite the strength in the man's huge hands.

After a second, Chris rose to his feet and offered his own hand, saying, "Chris Larabee." Brush released Vin's hand and turned to Chris, a flicker of recognition in his expression. Chris let a smile curl one corner of his mouth. Sometimes it was good to have a reputation.

Forewarned, Chris was prepared for the strong, almost brutal, grip on his hand and returned it. Brush, smiling with his mouth but glaring with his blue eyes, released his hand after a long moment, saying, "Damn fine to meet you, Larabee. Hawk riding with you now?"

Chris nodded, but said, "Rides with all of us."

Brush looked Chris over, his eyes lingering on the gunbelt, then returned to Chris's face with an appraising glitter. From the glint in his eye, Chris guessed that Brush reckoned he could take Chris. He was bigger, undoubtedly stronger, and had more weapons at his disposal.

Chris's smile widened, and he rode a swell of confidence. Strength and guns weren't everything and Brush was a fool if he thought they were.

Brush looked away from the slow smile and the gleam in Chris's eye and turned to JD, who stood and offered his hand. "JD Dunne." Either JD had caught the signs of the strength of Brush's grip and was prepared for it, which didn't seem all so likely, or Brush moderated it with him.

While Josiah and Ezra were introducing themselves, Chris turned to Vin and catching his eye, tilted his head in a question.

Vin shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together, but said nothing.

When the introductions were complete, Ezra said, "Please, Mr. Brush, sit and join us. Another is always welcome at the table, especially one who can share stories of our esteemed colleague. He speaks so rarely of himself." Ezra smiled and his gold tooth gleamed in the lamplight.

Vin glared at Ezra. "Ain't nothing to tell about," he said, voice soft. "We hunted together in the Indian Territory. Rode our separate ways when winter came on."

JD looked around the table, then fixed his eyes on Brush, "So how'd he come to be called Hawk?"

Brush laughed, then said, "My pa used to keep hawks for hunting and Vin reminded me of one of them. Deadly on the hunt, but always came back to Pa's arm, tame as you please. Hawk was just like that. And he's got them sharp eyes, seemed like he could see beyond the horizon."

Chris fought off a snarl, not liking the comparison, but not able to put his finger on why. From the look on his face, Josiah didn't like it much either. If Brush hung around for more than a day or two, Chris might have to speak with Josiah and compare impressions.

With a look at Vin, who'd angled his head so the shadow of his hat brim swallowed his eyes, Chris growled at Ezra, "We gonna play? Deal."

Ezra nodded and proceeded to shuffle and deal, his face showing nothing but his usual charm.

Whenever Tom Brush started to turn the conversation toward stories about Vin, usually encouraged by JD whose boundless curiosity made him insensitive to what other folks were thinking, Chris or Josiah or Ezra would turn the conversation back to the game, or back to Brush himself.

Chris learned that he was most recently a trapper and had been working in Colorado. It'd been six years since he and Vin hunted buffalo together. He came south in advance of the winter, hoping to find some place for himself, but he was having trouble getting situated.

After half an hour or so, just barely long enough to be polite, Vin rose to his feet and said, "You done cleaned me out, Ezra. Reckon it's time for me to turn in." He touched the brim of his hat and walked out of the room, with the stiffness of a man who was sure he was going to be followed.

After the next hand, Brush laid down his cards and said, "I'd best hold onto my money, Mr. Standish. Don't know when I'm going to get more."

Brush rose to leave, but before he could excuse himself, Chris said, "Let me buy you a drink, Mr. Brush," extending a hand toward the bar.

Brush flicked his eyes toward the door of the saloon, just a glance but enough for Chris to know that Vin'd been right that Brush was going to follow him out, then looked at Chris, who offered again his slow smile. Damn but the man was easy to read. He wanted Vin for something, though Chris couldn't figure what.

The two men found a space at the quiet end of the bar, near the corner, and the barkeep poured each of them a glass of whiskey. "So," Chris said, leaning back against the bar, "how'd you find out Vin was here."

Brush pulled a fat cigar out of his pocket and lit it, saying, "Kept my ear to the ground."

Chris nodded, and tossed back his whiskey. "Why?"

"I hear he's worth $500 to the state of Texas. Might be willing to give me a little money not to take him in. Maybe agree to ride with me again," Brush said, puffing on his cigar.

"No one's getting any money for that price on Vin's head," Chris said, an edge of anger in his voice. "He's innocent of that crime."

Brush chuckled. "Innocent's got nothing to do with it. Hawk never could fight me and he knows it. I figure he'll pay me $100 not to take him in and that'll keep me going until I can get myself settled."

Chris whirled on him with a lightning fast backhand strike that rocked the man onto his heels. By the time Brush was standing straight again, Chris had a gun in his belly and a hard hand on the fur lapel of his coat. "You're not getting money from Vin or anyone else in this town. You'll ride out first thing in the morning. I'll stake you with a saddlebag full of provisions."

Brush looked at the gun, then at Chris's face, and nodded slowly. "Don't hurt nothing to try," he said, slowly.

Chris released him, keeping his gun at the ready. It was so quick that most of the saloon's patrons barely noticed, though Chris was pleased to see that Josiah and Ezra and JD were watching closely, hands on their guns. Brush shook himself and pushed away from the bar, but Chris stopped him with a hand on his chest. "Drink your whiskey, Mr. Brush. I hate for you to ride out dry in the morning."

He made eye contact with Josiah and tilted his head in a request. Josiah excused himself from the table. When he arrived, Chris said, "Mr. Brush is going to be leaving us at first light, Josiah."

Josiah made a low tsk-tsk noise. "Well, that's a right shame," he said, "I'll keep you company until it's time for you to go. Don't want you telling folks we're inhospitable." He positioned himself at the bar such that Brush was almost trapped into the corner.

Brush started to protest but caught a look at Chris's face, then Josiah's and subsided. After a second, Brush turned back to Chris with a leer creasing his red face. "So does Hawk roll over for you too? That tight sweet ass offered up any time you want it," he said, voice low. He looked over at Josiah, then back at Chris. "Do you share him with your friends, Larabee?"

A flare of anger struck in Chris's belly, too hot and strong to control. He whirled and kicked Brush's feet out from under him as he slammed his cheek down onto the bar, drawing his gun and pointing it straight between the man's eyes before he could react. Brush went still under his hands and Chris leaned down and said, low, right in his ear, "Vin's earned the respect of everyone in this town." Brush, eyes wide, nodded. "Speak like that about him again, I'll shoot you where you stand and let the dogs fight over your body." Chris pushed Brush's head harder into the bar, glorying in the uncomfortable grunts and the pained wince on the round red face.

Josiah stepped forward and put his hand on Chris's arm. "Let him up, Brother. We don't want a scene here," he said into Chris's ear.

Chris looked around the room. A few unwary souls were staring at them, the more alert were looking carefully away, all their attention focused on him, though their eyes were elsewhere. At the table, Ezra and JD had their guns in hand. Chris nodded, pulled himself back, having to fight with his own body to do so. With a final hard pat on Brush's cheek, he backed away, holstering his gun. Without a word he turned on his heel and strode out of the bar.

Behind him he heard Josiah say, "Finish your drink, Mr. Brush. You can sleep in the church tonight. I'll make sure you get off okay in the morning."

***

Out on the boardwalk, Chris paused to calm himself, letting his breathing quiet and his heart stop galloping in his chest. Damn the man. Chris wished he could believe that Brush was lying. That Vin'd never...but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that. Not with the way Vin'd been wary around Brush, the confident knowledge with which he spoke. Six years before, though, Vin would have been barely JD's age, if that old, and imagining him with a brute like Brush made Chris clench his teeth with anger and disgust.

Chris shook the thought out of his head, walking slowly down the boardwalk away from the saloon, considering as he went where Vin might have gone. The livery seemed like the best place to start. He'd never been quite sure where Vin slept in town, not in the boarding house that was for sure. The few times they'd been together in town it had been in Chris's room, Vin slipping in and out in the dark of the night when no one could see them.

But with Brush there, and some sort of history between them that Vin didn't want to remember, Vin was probably hoping to get out of town for a bit, at least for the night. Maybe until Brush left town.

Chris figured it was probably best for him to get out of town as well. If he saw Tom Brush again he'd be tempted to shoot him.

Chris found Vin in the livery, strapping down his saddlebags. Vin tensed when he first walked in then his shoulders rounded in a soft slump. "It's me," he said, wanting to put Vin at ease.

It didn't quite work; Vin nodded and slung his bedroll across Peso's back, but he stayed slumped and subdued. As he was tying it down, he said, "Thanks." He looked over his shoulder. "For keeping him from coming after me."

Chris walked up close behind him and put his hand on the back of Vin's neck. "He'll be leaving in the morning. Josiah's keeping an eye on him."

Vin ducked his head, resting his forehead on Peso's flank. "How'd you manage that? I didn't figure he'd go until he had what he wanted." Chris felt the faint shudder that went through Vin at that, though he'd never have seen or noticed it if he didn't have his hand on Vin's neck still.

"Only had to pull my gun twice. Third time I'd have had to shoot him," Chris said, squeezing the tense muscles there.

Vin turned then and put his hand on Chris's shoulder. "Wouldn't have minded if you did." He took a deep breath then pushed his hat back and studied Chris's face, looking for something there. Chris wasn't sure what he found, but he asked, voice soft, "What'd he tell you?"

"Nothing important," Chris said. Vin looked surprised, but Chris knew in his heart it was true. He didn't know a lot about Vin's life before they met, hints and small facts that had dropped out in conversation mostly, but he knew it didn't matter what he'd done with Tom Brush. Didn't matter to Chris anyway. Whether or not it mattered to Vin was a different thing.

He looked around the livery, and when he saw no one around, leaned down and brushed a quick kiss over Vin's lips. Then he stepped away while Vin was still blinking in surprise and said, "Hope you packed enough for two."

With a grateful look, Vin nodded and finished strapping down his gear while Chris saddled Pony.

Once they were mounted, Chris turned toward the open desert, away from the town, and said, "Let's ride."

***

They found themselves heading toward Bitter Creek and Chris half expected that they'd ride all the way there, but after a couple of hours, Vin turned off the track, saying, "I know a good place round here. We can make camp." He paused for a second and Chris could see hesitation on his face, then he went on, "Unless you want to ride on to town, take a room."

Chris shrugged. Town had its advantages, a soft bed among them, but so did camping out. He wanted to be able to hold Vin in his arms without them having to sneak and hide and only the desert afforded them the privacy to do so.

Vin led them around into a draw nestled between two large hills. A trickle of stream flowed under a cluster of cottonwoods. Vin swung out of Peso's saddle and walked along in the moonlight-dappled shadows. "It's real nice here during the daytime, cool and quiet," Vin said, a measure of peace in his voice.

Chris watched Vin's back as he walked, sure footed even in the darkness, and was overwhelmed by the powerful feelings he had for him. Powerful wanting, yes, and he shifted in his saddle as that became uncomfortable, but an even more powerful care. Love, he reckoned, though neither of them had used the word yet. Might not ever. But it was still there between them, whether or not they ever spoke of it.

After a little ways, Vin found a place he liked. It was flat, sheltered, and with enough shrubs around to hide the light of a fire. He turned to Chris and asked, "This do? Or do you see someplace you like better?"

Chris dismounted and said, "Looks fine. I'll take care of the horses while you light the fire."

When the horses were settled, Chris dropped the saddles at the edge of the firelight across from the bedroll Vin'd laid out. He found a comfortable place for himself near the bedroll with his back against a stump. He reached out a hand to Vin, still squatting by the fire. "Come here," he invited.

Vin nodded and settled next to Chris. Chris wrapped his arm around Vin's shoulder and pulled him close, laying a soft kiss on the top of his head. They sat like that for a bit watching the fire, Vin relaxing slowly into Chris's arms. After a while, Chris said, "Anything you want to talk about, Vin?"

Vin shook his head, but said, "Whatever he told you, it weren't lies." He pushed himself upright, but Chris didn't let him go.

Chris squeezed his shoulder. "Don't matter to me either way," he said, softly. "Don't matter what you did then with someone else. Matters what you do now with me." He leaned down and kissed Vin, slow and thorough, putting his whole heart into it. His aim wasn't to arouse, though he could feel his own ardor rising, but he did want to show Vin where he belonged and with whom.

After Chris pulled away from the kiss, there was a long silence, long enough that he had to throw another log on the fire, before Vin spoke again. "After the first time, I never did try to say no to him or to fight him. Wasn't no point. I was just a scrawny kid then, skin and bones only and not much of those. Just let him do what he wanted." His voice was thick, and he traced around one of Chris's buttons with his fingertip.

"Why didn't you ride away?" Chris asked, hoping his voice was gentle.

"Couldn't afford to at first," Vin said. "I'd worked with a couple of other fellows who cheated me. When I met Tom I didn't have no money to buy bullets. He staked me, then split with me fair, fifty-fifty. Worth it to put up with the rest for that." Vin took a deep breath and pulled his hand back into his lap. "For a while anyway."

Chris clenched his teeth, fighting the wish that he had shot Tom Brush in the saloon. Any man who could use Vin Tanner like a whore deserved to be shot like a dog. He pulled Vin close again. "Don't matter. Every man has to do things he ain't happy with to get through sometimes. Lord knows I have."

Vin turned and looked at him, the firelight pulling the color out of his eyes, and said, "Sounds like you mean that."

"I do," Chris said, pulling Vin close and kissing him again, more deeply this time and with more heat.

Vin shivered, though Chris couldn't tell if it was the chill of the night or the feel of their bodies so close that brought it on, until Vin tipped his head a little to the side, offering his neck to Chris. Chris took the offering, licking and nibbling. After a sucking kiss that he hoped would leave a mark, Chris pulled back, whispering, "You want this?"

Vin swallowed hard and whispered, "I want everything you've got to give, Larabee."

Chris slid his hand over Vin's belly and cupped his half-hard cock in his hand, rubbing it through the pale trousers. Vin groaned and his head lolled on Chris's shoulder. Chris pressed harder, rubbing along the hardening length with the heel of his hand. Vin made another noise, soft and throaty, pushing hard forward, pressing Chris's hand down with his own as he did.

Chris could feel the shape of Vin's cock through his trousers, tracing the flared head with his thumb as his hand squeezed the shaft. Even though there were clothes between them, Vin hissed in pleasure. The soft sound ran like a stream over Chris's skin, hardening him to the point that his tight pants felt like an unforgiving prison.

Ignoring both the tightening of Vin's fingers around his hand and the unhappy whine when he pulled away, Chris turned Vin and pulled him down into a hard kiss. Vin opened to him right away and the kiss became a hard hot clash of teeth and tongues. Vin groaned again and wrapped his hands around Chris's head holding him close.

Overwhelmed by emotion and passion, Chris pulled away and took in the sight of Vin by firelight, lips kiss bruised, cheekbones flushed, eyes glittering black in the firelight. He felt his heart take flight as he looked, a flame of tenderness as powerful as the passion in his belly. Seeing his regard, Vin looked down, shy perhaps. Chris pulled him to his feet and they kissed again, more gently this time, and Chris said, "Undress for me, Vin."

Vin looked up at him, startled, then a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. Nakedness wasn't a luxury they could afford in town, when Vin had to be ready to leave Chris's room at a moment's warning. But here, with nothing but the sky and trees around them, Chris wanted to feel Vin's skin with his whole body.

Chris was frozen, watching his lover undress by the firelight until Vin stood naked in front of him burnished bronze, cock hard and high and glistening at the tip. When Vin looked up to see Chris, still fully dressed, he flushed and looked down. "Don't want to be bare by myself." He ran his hand along his own cock, just idly, keeping the fire burning, and the sight of it made Chris's breath catch in his throat.

Chris stepped forward toward him, unbuttoning his shirt and dropping it on the ground. Vin looked up then and smiled, hungry and sweet at the same time. Chris fumbled off his gunbelt and trousers with shaking fingers, unable to look away from Vin's eyes as he did so.

When all he had left on was his drawers, Chris scooped up their two gunbelts and set them down, one on each side of the bedroll. He stepped out of his drawers, then turned back to Vin who was watching him, eyes sparkling in the firelight. The hand on his cock was moving faster now, gripping harder and Chris stepped to him, taking Vin's wrist and stopping his hand. Vin let Chris pull him to the bedroll, and they fell into a kiss as soon as their bodies were on the ground.

Without breaking their kiss, Chris arranged himself over Vin so that their cocks were lined up and began thrusting slowly. Vin moaned and spread his legs wider, giving Chris more room, giving him permission. Chris began to move faster and harder, the slickness of sweat and pre-come between them increasing the feel of skin on skin until Chris was panting, each breath a groan, and Vin was rolling his head on the blanket.

Just as Chris could feel the tension building in all of his muscles, his balls drawing up close to his body, Vin put one hand on Chris's shoulder and the other on his hip and stopped him. Chris strained down toward Vin's mouth for just a second, a frustrated groan escaping him, and Vin said, "Want you inside me again, Chris. Want you bad."

Chris bit the inside of his cheek, controlling the surge of lust and need that rode over him at that. They'd only done that once before and he'd been glad then that they were alone on the trail, because his pleasured shouts and Vin's moans would have roused the whole town. Chris nodded, not trusting his voice to make any sound other than a needy whine.

Vin smiled and pulled a bottle of oil out from under the corner of the bedroll. As he pressed it into Chris's hand he said, "I hoped you'd feel like that."

When Vin rolled over under him, letting himself brush across Chris's aching cock, Chris could hear Tom Brush's voice asking if Vin rolled over for him, see the disgusting leer on the fat round face. He rocked back onto his haunches and stared at the bottle of oil in his hand for a moment and wondered if Brush had even bothered with it. When he looked back at Vin the fire jumped and the light shook and for just a second he could imagine, almost see, Vin as he'd been then, so skinny his ribs stood out, his ass thin and flat, his hands clenched white-knuckled in the blanket.

Vin turned to look at him over his shoulder and Chris saw a flash of hurt cross his face before he pulled himself up into a crouch, keeping his back to Chris. "Damn you, Larabee," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "I should never..."

Chris moved close, cupping one of Vin's shoulders with his hand, trying to still the shaking he could see. With the other he stroked down Vin's back, relieved to feel the lean muscles and strong sinews he knew, not jutting bones. He leaned down and whispered in Vin's ear, "I said it don't matter to me, Vin, and I meant it. I just don't want to use you like he did."

The words were barely out of his mouth when Vin whirled, and in a move like a tornado flipped them so that Chris was flat on his back and Vin was straddling him, hands beside his head, whispering so hard and fierce at Chris that Chris could feel the breath on his face. "Don't you ever compare yourself to Tom Brush. You ain't nothing like him."

Chris slid his hand up Vin's arms, which were shaking with anger, and left them on his shoulders for support. "I won't," he said, seriously, though he hadn't thought of his words that way. "I just don't want...," he said, then paused, winding his fingers into Vin's hair while he gathered his thoughts, "I just don't want you to think that's all I want of you."

Vin shook his head, his face softening, and leaned down for a slow, wet kiss. He pulled back and said, "Ain't no doubt of that, Chris. Now, you gonna love me or what?" His next kiss, and the kisses after that, were heat and passion and need, stoking the fire in their bellies and hardening their cocks again.

When Vin lay down for him again, Chris didn't give a thought to the past. As his fingers worked oil into Vin's hole, stretching and softening the tight ring of muscle, he licked a swirling path down Vin's back, nibbling at edge of a shoulder blade, pressing wet kisses onto each knob of Vin's spine, until Vin was on his hands and knees, rocking back into his hand and mumbling words that Chris couldn't quite hear.

When he couldn't stand the wait anymore, Chris took up the bottle of oil again and coated his own cock, biting his lip against the pleasure, holding it at bay as best he could. He slid into Vin slowly, cautiously, guided by the hitches and pauses in Vin's breathing when to push in and when to stop. When he was all the way inside he put all his weight on one arm, and wrapped the other one around Vin's chest, holding on with all his strength to the control he needed to wait for Vin to be ready for him to move.

After a moment, Vin's breathing calmed and he rocked back against Chris, driving him deeper inside and drawing a groan from both of them. Chris moved back so that his hands were on Vin's hips and thrust inside, slowly at first then with greater speed and force, feeling himself swallowed by the tremendous heat of Vin's body around him. Under him, Vin shifted his weight reaching for his own cock. Chris leaned forward again, covering his back and wrapped his hand around Vin's. Vin stopped for a second when he felt Chris's touch, but Chris guided him back into motion, matching the speed of his thrusts to the movement of Vin's hand, their hands. Chris bit his lip again, fighting to hold off his own release, determined to see to Vin's pleasure before taking his own.

He shifted forward just a bit, and something about the change in position made Vin shudder and cry out. Chris drove deeper and harder, Vin moaned as he came, his hot seed coating their joined hands, the muscles of his ass clenching and gripping Chris's cock tight and hot. A few even deeper thrusts frayed Chris's control beyond bearing, and he came hard, shooting himself deep into Vin.

They wound up curled together on the one bedroll, Vin wrapped around Chris from behind, pressing lazy soft kisses into Chris's shoulder. Chris held one of Vin's hands, shaping the fingers and tracing the tendons with his touch as they lay in silence and comfort.

After a long while, Vin said, "I ain't got no hate in my heart for him, you know. Gave it up a long time ago."

Chris nodded, though he remembered the wariness Vin'd shown as soon as Tom Brush walked into the saloon. No hate, but maybe some leftover fear, and that raised Chris's own anger. "I got enough hate for both of us," Chris said, squeezing Vin's hand hard.

Vin chuffed out a breath that made Chris wonder if he was surprised at Chris's reaction. But he didn't say anything and Chris didn't either, just went back to his study of Vin's hand, callused from rein and rifle, scratched and scarred by a life far longer than its years. He pressed a kiss to the tips of Vin's fingers.

After a spell, Vin nuzzled the back of his neck, then said with a note of surprised satisfaction in his voice, "Reckon I could fight him off now. Least make him think twice about coming after me."

Chris turned in Vin's arms and kissed him hard and fast before saying with complete certainty, "You could. He's slow. You'd have him out cold before he even had his guard up."

Vin grunted at that, as if weighing Chris's words, and settled on his back. Chris wrapped his arm around Vin's waist and held him close, breathing comfort into his hair as the fire died down and the quiet of night settled around them. They didn't say another word after that but it was a long time before either of them fell asleep. 

***

They broke camp at first light and rode back toward town. About halfway back, Vin stopped and sat up straight in the saddle. While Chris was squinting at the horizon, barely able to make out two riders at the edge of his sight, shapes only, Vin pulled out his spyglass. With a nod like a man who'd had a suspicion confirmed, Vin handed him the spyglass without a word and Chris raised it to his eyes. Josiah and Brush.

Handing the spyglass back to Vin, Chris said, "I wonder if Josiah's going to ride all the way to Bitter Creek with him."

Vin tucked the glass back into his pocket then flipped the reins, heading off at a slow walk. "I bet he will. He's a good friend."

Chris moved to swing them wide around the two riders, turning Pony's head to the south, but Vin kept on the straight path and Chris wound out having to trot to catch up. When he did, he said, "No reason for you to talk to him again."

Vin didn't look at him, just said, "Is too," and rode on at a trot.

They met up with the other riders a few minutes later. Vin nodded to Josiah, then turned to Brush, who sported a dark bruise on one side of his jaw and a swollen ear on the other side. Vin tipped his hat to him, and said, "Riding out so soon, Tom," without a trace of warmth or kindness in his voice.

Brush gave Vin an ingratiating smile that made Chris want to punch him again, and said, "Seems some of your new friends have taken a dislike to me."

"They're good judges of men," Vin said, with a nod.

At that the smile fell off of Brush's face and was replaced by an ugly sneer that made Chris bristle. Brush drew his horse up close to Vin, so they were just inches away from each other, and took hold of Vin's arm. "Then why don't they see that you ain't no man at all, Hawk? Or do you give them your ass in exchange for their protection," he said, voice as foul as his words.

Before Chris could react, Vin'd lashed out with a vicious punch that rocked Brush back in his saddle followed by a wrenching move that broke his arm with a sound like a rifle shot. Vin pulled Brush up by his broken arm and said, spitting the words into his face, "Don't need no protecting." Brush blanched and, with a grimace, twisted his arm out of Vin's grasp, cradling it to his chest.

Vin reached into his pocket and pulled out some money, which he handed to Josiah, reaching across the haunches of Brush's horse. "When you get to Bitter Creek, get him to a doctor. He'll need the use of that arm wherever he's going."

Josiah gave a big smile, and said, "I'll do that, Brother. Probably stay the night and take advantage of the amenities. Make sure Mr. Brush here is well seen to."

Without another glance at Brush, Vin tipped his hat to Josiah, and turned Peso toward Four Corners, nudging him into a slow trot. When Chris fell in beside, Vin turned to him and said, his voice fierce and hard, "Now he knows his tame hawk ain't so tame no more."

Chris said, seriously, "You never were, Vin. Just smart enough to wait for your time to come."

Vin smiled, hard and cold, and showing clearly the pleasure he'd taken in breaking Tom Brush's arm, in beating him. In that moment Chris could see the hawk in Vin, wild and unfettered, and found himself wondering if tame hawks ever did turn on their masters, rending and clawing the hand that they'd once perched on. And if this was what they looked like after they did, proud and strong and free.

*** End ***


End file.
